


Dianthus Caryophyllus

by Axixa



Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series
Genre: AU, Flowers, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Read at Your Own Risk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-07
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2019-05-19 08:20:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14870171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Axixa/pseuds/Axixa
Summary: Sometimes the heart wishes for more than it should.





	Dianthus Caryophyllus

It was a lonely Sunday afternoon, just a simple weekday. The sun rested, hidden behind thick, dark clouds. I, a little boy, had spent my day in my old father’s office, surrounded by old, dusty books as well as old, stale furniture. On a day like this one, everything’s quite miserable. The maid is depressed, and the broom she’s holding, sweeps in long, heavy movements. The cook’s knives are blunt, and his behavior is likewise.

I, myself, am sitting by a desk of the oldest model found, with a textbook in front of me. Thousands of pages, that should’ve been covered by lettering, are blank – in the same condition as my lonely heart, as well as my brain – completely empty. I, only a child, is as lost in my thoughts as a novelist with mogigraphy.

I stared, out through the shining window in front of me, and out on our garden. All kinds of flowers, and plants grew there. Everything from Hyssopus to Narcissus, and everything from Leuchantemum to Rosa. Quite surprisingly, Biology, has always been something that has fascinated me, flowers and their unique and mysterious color combinations, and different shapes.  
Sometimes, I think that I am thankful towards these planta, because it is because of these beautiful creations, that we are able to live.

Thursday, May 4th, 1933.

School had just ended, and with my backpack on, I marched home with happy steps. A smile grazed my lips. Today was a good day, because, today was the day that I would get to plant my long-awaited daffodils. I chuckled a little, surprised by my own emotions. To think, that a boy of my age, as depressed and lonely as I – could feel the feelings of anticipation. I looked forward, as a surprised expression came with the realization, that someone was standing in front of gate of the mansion. A young boy stood there, with golden locks and shining hazel eyes. His tiny and dainty looking hands gripped the metal bars, as he leaned forward to smell the intoxicating scent of all the flowers, following the soft breeze.

I looked at him, quite astonished. The boy was beautiful, if not for the dirty, worn-out clothes he wore, and the dirt that tainted the pearly white skin of his cheek. I took a step forward, towards him unconsciously, and with the step I took, followed the echoing sound of gravel moving underneath my feet. The boy looked up, at me, with an expression that said everything but calmness. I raised my hands, not as you’d do when you surrender yourself, but like a man would when trying to calm his raging wife – as my father always said.

“Are you here to look at the flowers?” I asked, softly and with a calm tune of voice. He nodded softly and carefully, as an answer to my question. I smiled at him, which made him quite surprised. I took a step forward, meanwhile he took one back. I repeated the motion until I had him backed up against the gate. “My father says, that strangers mustn’t be allowed in the garden, but you’re not a stranger if you’re familiar with the garden, right?” I asked and got a hesitant nod in response.

I took his hand in mine and led him into the garden through the now open gate. We walked with haste, and let nothing stop us, until we had reached my favorite area. The area that I had planted my collection in. His small hand clutched mine tightly, as if he was afraid I’d let go. I smiled a little at that thought. It felt nice, feeling the feeling that I was needed. Perhaps not much, but at least, I was the anchor for this boy’s feeling of safety in this moment. I smiled again at that thought.

I led him to the section with my pink carnations, I plucked one and handed it to him. He looked at it, and put it up to his nose, hesitantly, and smelled it. His eyelids fluttered quite blatantly, making the both of us quite surprised. I chuckled a little, which earned me a half-assed, sour expression which – although I enjoyed seeing it – only lasted a couple of seconds.

Instead, when that expression had faded into a small grin, the boy looked me in my eyes, with respect.  
“Thank you…” He said, meanwhile tugging softly at my sleeve. His hazel eyes glowing with happiness.

I could only smile at him.  
“You’re very welcome.”

Wednesday, September 17th, 1945.

The war is finally over, and peace is now found again, but not inside my heart.  
I am now a man, twenty-two years of age. I still live in my parents’ house, since I am to inherit it, a big inheritance, from a wealthy family. My parents have passed since long ago, and since there is no other heir than me, the people around me are desperate and wants to see me at the altar, as soon as possible. 

But I refuse all offers. I will never marry someone, out of pity for my own family. I will never marry someone who’s face I haven’t seen, and someone whom I have never loved.

I have spent the last four years of my life, alone, so I might as well spend the rest of my life that way. Living, in the dark and cold room, called loneliness. Although I am so reluctant to find someone to spend my life with, I have not chosen to be in this place, in this kind of situation.

I lay my head back on the hard cushion of the loveseat I’m lying on. The sad silence has completely swallowed me, and I refuse to leave the mansion. I am depressed, and even more so than when I was a mere child. The silence around me, takes a grip around my throat and strangles me slowly, with an iron grip.

Because sometimes, silence is violent.

That, I have had to learn the hard way. I lost a friend, a love. The only person in life I trusted. We were inseparable as children, and even up in our teens. But, because of a certain incident, we got separated.

And we haven’t spoken since then.

With education and good judgement, I went out to the countryside to search for my long-lost friend. But time was scarce, and I never found him. Heartbroken, I returned to my old home. My maid thought it was useless, searching for a deceased man, but her wise words could not reach my ears.

I was determined, that I would reunite with my love.

I sat up, from my lying position and walked towards, and up the stairs. I am not a beautiful sight, I can assure you, but the dark emptiness inside my cold body is unbearable. With tired steps, I went towards my old desk, that I used to write sad poems on, as a child. I reached out for one of the handles on one its sides. I opened the cabinet and reached inside. I took out its content and looked at it. I checked the gun’s magazine, and smiled sadly, when I saw the bullets inside. With the gun in my right hand, I searched my pockets for a picture. A photograph of my friend and love.

We had taken my father’s camera without permission, and it was the first time that I did something bad. But, even though he tried to get me to stop what I was doing, I was determined that I would have at least one memory of him, that would last forever. He had told me that it was a bad idea, but I took it anyway.

It was worth the trouble, because at the end of the day, we could look at the picture and smile at each other. A silent tear ran down my cheek as I raised the gun to my temple. I switched off the safety liver as a truly happy smile grazed my lips.

“Finally, we’ll be together.” I thought, as I pulled the trigger.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
